


To Gain Control

by lunar_saturn_88



Series: Trigger Warning [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 15:31:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4065109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunar_saturn_88/pseuds/lunar_saturn_88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam finds out about the reader self-harm</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Gain Control

You were in your bathroom looking at yourself in the mirror. 21 years old and having problems. All of the stress from college was building up and you needed release. You had lied to your best friend Sam Winchester who was studying with you and said you were just simply going to the bathroom. That was a lie all in itself. You needed to be released from the pain that you felt at that moment. And your best friend had no idea that you had problems like this and you wanted to keep it that way. You needed to try to make this a quick trip so he really thought that you went to the bathroom instead of something else.

Liar, not pretty, not needed, ugly, worthless.

The words of everything that was wrong with you. You were a failure even though you busted your ass off when it came to college. But your mother was always thought of you as a failure. You could never amount to your brother who was a successful doctor. You had failed her by wanting to become a lawyer. She wanted you to be a Doctor just like your big brother.

You grabbed at your hair shaking your head. You couldn’t. No you couldn’t deal with this. You opened your drawer and dug around in it. You had razors hidden in there along with a sharp pair of hair cutting shears. Your hand landed on your shears first. You slid them out of your way. You never used them. Your hand hit the box of razors pulling them out of the drawer.

Liar, not pretty, not needed, worthless, ugly, failure, not the perfect child.

The words continued on in your mind. You rolled up the sleeves of your grey Stanford college hoodie and picked up one of your sharp razors. Your eyes landed on the silvery white lines that had healed over time, some were pink from recently healing, and some were scabbed over. You closed your eyes and ran the razor across your arm not to make it not too deep in your arm. You felt your blood come to the surface in little beads of red. The words began to disappear, but you still felt worthless.

You dragged it across your arm deeper. The pain flooding you making you feel better. Controlling the pain that you felt from the voices inside of your head. The words that your mother had said before you had left for college. The self-hate and self-loathing of what you looked like.

The knock on the door caused you to jump and dig the blade into your arm badly causing you to moan out in pain.

“Y/N?” Sam called from the other side of the door.

You looked at your arm with wide eyes. You dropped the razor onto the floor gripping your arm. You had cut too deep. No that wasn’t good. “Shit.” You muttered.

“Y/N? You alright in there?” Sam asked his voice laced over in concern.

“Fine.” You lied. Your pitch was off alerting Sam that there was something wrong.

“Y/N I’m coming in there.” He said jiggling the door knob.

Shit you idiot you had forgot to lock the door. Damn it he was going to see this. No. You couldn’t allow that to happen. You went to reach for the door knob when the door came open. You felt tears come to your eyes. No, you never wanted Sam to see this side of you ever. You wanted him to think that everything was alright with you.

Sam’s hazel eyes were wide. “Y/N… why?”

“Sam go…”

Sam came towards your trembling form. “Y/N…” He said softly. He took your injured arm into his hands. He quickly grabbed a towel pressing it against it lightly to try to slow the bleeding. “Do you have a first aid kit?” He asked in a soothing tone.

You looked at him with wide watery eyes. Why would he want to help you?

“Please, Y/N. I want to help you.”

You let out a soft sigh. “Under the counter.” You said softly.

“Hold this to your arm.” He said softly moving around you.

You held the towel to your arm.

Sam got the first aid kit out from under the counter and came back over to you. “Sit.” He said softly.

You sat on the toilet seat and looked down ashamed.

“Why?” He asked softly as he began to clean your arm up.

You looked at him through your eyelashes. “I didn’t want you to see this.”

“Y/N… please don’t do this to yourself. What ever it is… you can talk to me.”

“Sam… you got enough…”

“Please Y/N. I love you and I don’t want to see you get hurt.” He said softly, as he inspected your arm.

You winced as he cleaned it out with antiseptic.

“Can you please tell me…”

“The voices wouldn’t go away.” You whimpered.

“Y/N… please… if something like this starts again…”

“What do you want me to do Sam?” You questioned looking at him as he put neosporin on your wounds that you had given yourself.

“Come and talk to me please. I want to help you out with this.”

“You certain that you want to sign onto this?” You asked sadly.

“I love you Y/N. You’re my best friend. I want to help you.”

“I will.” You said softly.

“You promise.”

You nodded your head.

Sam bandaged your arm up and rubbed it lightly with his thumb. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

Your eyes fluttered closed. Perhaps this was going to be a good thing. Perhaps having Sam to talk to would keep you away from this path. You could only hope.


End file.
